Page 13 of Trick of the Flesh
Makes me ache for him.
Has me grinning beneath the mask.
He’s tired.
I close the distance again, pressing just a little more, letting him stumble, letting him feel me. “Fuck you, Miggy.” He swears softly, a sharp, breathless sound. The fear.
His want.
It’s intoxicating and I want to be drunk on it forever.
“You think you can escape?” I whisper, slow and dangerous. “You’re a trembling mess, little brother. Panting and out of breath. You want me, and you know it. I can feel it. Every weak little shiver when I’m near you. That’s mine. Give in to it, Caleb.”
He stumbles hard over a root, twisting slightly, hands clawing at the dirt. I step up behind him, letting my chest brush his back. I lean over him. “Next time you run, I won’t let you slip,” I whisper, letting my voice scrape over his neck. “I take care of my things, pretty boy. You belong to me.”
He spins, nearly tripping again, eyes wide. I step back, letting him get a few frantic steps, giving him hope.
We enter a darker part of the woods, and I’d say we’re very near the creek now. Trees crowd closer, leaves brushing our skin. Darkness surrounds us and he thinks he’s lost me. I let him think that. This must be doing a number on his anxiety and for a second, I feel guilty. Let him gain a momentary sense of safety. Then a twig snaps behind him.
He jerks. Every muscle tenses.
“Little brother,” I tut, stepping out from the shadows. Hands on his shoulders for a brief, teasing second. “You can run,” I murmur, low and dangerous, “but you’ll never get away.”
He shivers under my touch. “Please, Miggy. I’m tired.”
“Run.” I pull away deliberately, letting him sprint again, letting the chase drag on, prolonging the anticipation. Every moment I let him think he’s safe makes the next approach even more thrilling.
Finally, the woods thin. The edge of the property is ahead;he doesn’t realize it but we’ve run one big circle and we’re back near the house. He’s panting, chest heaving, hair plastered with sweat, shorts damp, and legs shaking. I linger in the shadows, letting him believe he’s survived. Let him feel the false safety.
I step forward silently, the mask just a glimmer in the moonlight. “Run,” I whisper, “but remember… next time, little brother… I won’t let you get away. If you run from me again, I’ll ruin you right here in the dirt like the tease you are.”
And I retreat, shadows swallowing me as I watch him vanish toward the yard, chest rising and falling like the beat of a drum.
He’ll run again because all Caleb wants is for me to chase him. To force him to submit to me.
To make him mine.
SIX
MIGUEL
The house swallowshim up the moment he slips through the back door. Music, laughter, and chatter from the party—they’re all background noise. My body is completely attuned to him and only him. Every hurried step, every panicked breath that comes from his tired lungs. He thinks he can hide. That he can disappear into our childhood home and that I won’t find him.
But I know him too well.
I know all his hiding places.
Following silently, boots quiet against the floorboards, the mask’s glow faintly lights the dim hallway. I track him through the living room, past the scattered decorations and punch bowls, the scent of cider and pumpkins hanging heavy in the air. Hearing the drunk calls of my friends but ignoring them, because only one thing is important and is deserving of my attention.
And that person disappears down the basement stairs.
Oh, sweet little brother.
You’ve really put yourself in a predicament now, haven’t you?
I pause at the top, letting the shadows swallow me, letting the arousal coil in my stomach. The basement is dark and narrow, with walls pressing in. The air smells damp, earthy, and close.Claustrophobic. Exactly what I want and where I want him.
I hear his frantic shuffle at the bottom of the stairs. He’s trying to barricade himself, fumbling with the old wooden door, muttering under his breath.
